


Chimerical

by The_Northern_Wolf



Series: The Neverending Mourning [1]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And she gets it, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Backround Byler, Coming Out, Cuddling & Snuggling, Eventual Fluff, F/F, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Internalized Homophobia, Max Needs A Hug, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pining, Robin is a dad, Steve is a Mom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-06-30 14:21:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19854991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Northern_Wolf/pseuds/The_Northern_Wolf
Summary: "The thing about movies? They're sadistic."ormax is having trouble coming out and Eleven is oblivious to her pining. slow burn.





	Chimerical

**Author's Note:**

> Chimerical - hoped for but illusory or impossible to achieve

  
  
  


The thing about movies? They’re sadistic. 

Not your run of the mill sadism that dabbles in making you cringe at grotesqueries, but rather the kind that pulls your heart in all the wrong ways, making you want to rip open your own ribs to set it free. The kind that makes your chest hatch little butterflies and your stomach turn to knots, only for the screen to fade to black in the most unceremonious credits ever. 

Max shut her TV off, glaring at the dark screen before rubbing her wrist red-raw irritably. Same old cookie-cutter garbage ‘Happily Ever After’ endings that anyone with half a brain cell would fall for. And fall hard.

She wanted to scream, anger bubbling up inside her. But she knew Neil would scream back, so kept her mouth screwed shut. 

Her nails dug into her palm, leaving a spattering of small, pink crescents in her palm. They burned, but it was a good kind of burning, like the ribbons of pain you got when you were losing a tooth. 

A quick glance at the clock told her that she could still return the movie; not overdue, which would be a first, and she really didn’t want to be in her room right now; the walls felt too tight, and if she stared long enough at the oily shadows, they began to  _ move.  _

She slung her bag over her shoulder before climbing out her window, hauling her small, cracked board with her. The paint was old and chipping, but the bearings were well oiled and slick. Thus she found herself rolling across the street, the pitch darkness of night enveloping her in its belly. 

The blaring yellow sign of Blockbuster was still somewhat of an annoyance; it was new and  _ everyone  _ would pack in on the weekends looking for the newest romance to get off to. She was sick and tired of people acting normal, like nothing had happened four months ago, like the world didn’t almost  _ end.  _ What the fuck was wrong with people?

When she entered, to her surprise, the store was empty. The rows of new, plastic rectangles stared out at her, making her uneasy. Steve was fiddling with a sheet of polymer plastic, spinning in his wheely-chair.

Max cleared her throat and he jumped, flushing before smiling cautiously. That was another thing she hated:  _ Fake. _

“It sucked,” she tossed the disk onto the blue, plastic-sheet table, her eyes angled at her muddy shoes. 

“Romancing the Stone?” Steve asked, as if he hadn't checked this out to her a couple weeks ago. “What, some guilty pleasure of yours?”

“None of your business,” Max snapped, feeling instant guilt. She  _ wasn’t  _ mad at Steve. 

Steve frowned. “Jeez kid I was just curious. No need to go Madmax on me alright? And just between you and me, wouldn’t want to wake the peanut gallery.”

“The what?” Max curled her lip, puzzled.

Harrington rolled his eyes. “Never mind.” He glanced behind him at a row of shelving housing movies deemed ‘special’ by the owners, when it reality they were just advertising propaganda. 

As Steve moved to sit back down he knocked over a stack of DvDs and they toppled over like dominos. The slap-clap of the disks was quickly followed by a yawn and grumbling. “You know, you’re  _ really  _ good at the whole ‘stay quiet so Robin doesn’t turn your insides into your outsides’ thing,” Robin Buckley muttered, stretching her arms above her head.

“Wake up from your beauty sleep darling?” Steve asked, fluttering his lashes innocently. 

Robin shot him a withering look. “Didn’t your mom ever tell you not to pick fights will girls?”

“Didn’t your mom ever tell you to not sleep on the job?” Steve retorted playfully. 

Robin raised an eyebrow, sitting on the counter. “How many fights have you won again?”

“Hey! I beat up a Russian spy!  _ That  _ was very chivalrous!” He proclaimed. 

She snorted. “Yeah and you also adopted five children that got you  _ captured  _ by a Russian spy. I think you’re lacking in the upstairs department buddy,” she clicked her tongue before turning to Max, as if just realizing she was there. “You look like the devil just dragged you in.”

Max would definitely prefer  _ not  _ to talk about her messy rat’s nest of hair and the bags beneath her eyes. “Yeah well maybe it did,” she snapped. “Can I go now?”

Steve handed her the receipt and she crushed it in her palm, swiveling on her heels to leave. “Wait,” Steve called. She turned and tapping her foot. “What?”

Robin was swinging her legs innocently, watching Max with a stare that left the girl feeling not only very exposed, but also..  _ Explicit.  _ It was as if Robin could read her mind or something, and knowing Eleven, she preferred to go with the ‘or something’. “You’re one of Dustin’s Lost Boys huh? The snarky ‘takes no one’s shit’ one right? You seem to have been taking a lot of shit, just saying.”

“I’m just not in the mood,” Max grated through her teeth, her muscles stiffening. 

“Max? Are you ok? Robin’s right. You’re not acting like your normal self,” Steve said, reaching out a tentative hand. She smacked it away. 

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“Do you know how bad at lying you are?” Robin asked, though there wasn’t even the hint of mocking in her voice. It sounded more.. Playful? God she was definitely not in the mood for  _ this. _

“If you say Dustin I’ll kill you in your sleep.”

“Fair enough,” Robin shrugged. “I was going to say Eleven.”

“What do you know about El?” Her voice strained to a shout, causing Steve to flinch. Robin just pinched her brows, cocking her head like a cat.

“Besides the fact that she’s probably some superhero in disguise? Not much,” Robin was about to continue but Max could hardly hear her over the blood pounding in her ears like the shots of Billy’s gun. 

Tears stung her eyes, and all the sudden the lights were too bright, the smell of new plaster suffocating, and the stares of Robin and Steve too  _ cornering.  _ She backed up a step, gritting her teeth so hard they might have shattered then and there.

“Woah, hey,” Steve said, panic lacing his voice. “Seriously what’s wrong?”

All she could think about was the knot in her throat and the burn of her eyes as she fought to keep the tears at bay because if there was one thing Max Mayfield was  _ not  _ going to do, it was cry in front of Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington. 

But she couldn’t stop the white-hot tears that raced down her cheeks like the world’s most abrupt rainstorm, and she couldn’t stop the gasps that erupted from her throat like bile before she collapsed to the ground, trembling like a little girl who got lost in the supermarket.

She wanted to scream, to kick something, to punch a hole through the wall- or better yet,  _ someone.  _ But she didn’t always need that. She needed someone to hold her, to whisper into her hair and sleep next to her at night. Someone to tell her secrets to because if she didn’t she was sure she would implode; and someone to  _ love  _ and call her own without fear of reprieve from her sick, twisted step-father.

Not so long ago, she thought she had that. But then Mike fucking Wheeler waltzed in and she acted as calm and collected as she could be, smiling and ever so slowly pulling El away from him- and to her. It was selfish and conniving and oh so ulterior like some side-plot in a movie. But she couldn’t  _ help  _ it.

It might have been only mere seconds before a strong, warm pair of arms encircled her. She didn’t think twice as she buried her head in Steve’s chest, balling his shirt into her fists and crying into his shoulder. 

For once she didn’t care that anyone was watching. She didn’t care that any average Joe could walk in and see what a mess she was. And she didn’t care that Steve probably thought she was weak and pathetic and all the things an apocalypse survivor shouldn’t be.

But instead of pulling away as she screamed into his chest, he held her closer, rocking her gently. She wasn’t sure if he was talking to her (he probably was), but she liked the feel of his breath ruffling her hair, and his hands holding her as if she were the only person in the world.

It seemed like an eternity before her sobs died down to sniffling, leaving her with a headache better reserved for an amnesiac. Her eyes hurt and were raw, and her throat was torn to tatters from her yelling.

She didn’t realize the side of her fist was bruised yellow, lacerated with the tile pattern. She had been slamming her fist into the ground, feeling no pain. It didn’t feel good, but it felt better than just simply crying and lying still.

“Max?” Steve asked, his arms going limp as he tried to look her in the eye. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re such a mom,” Max muttered mirthlessly, laughing sharply into his chest. She didn’t pull away though. The damage was done, if there was any to begin with. 

Steve narrowed his eyes, pursing his lips. “Is it something I said?”

“No- Yes,” Max growled in frustration, aimed at no one but herself. “I don’t know,” she finished in a whimper, hiding her eyes in his shirt, now damp with her tears. 

“Is it about Eleven?” Robin asked, crouching down next to her, essentially blocking the door from any onlookers- and any fast-footed escape Max could have made. 

Max nodded, words evading her.  _ No. It’s not about her. It shouldn’t- can’t be about her.  _ She scrunched her eyes shut, sucking in a shaky breath. 

“Steve,” Robin said lightly, making Max decide then and there was Robin was the father of whatever dumb family she had been roped into. “Let me take this one.”

“Are you sure?” Steve asked, glancing down at Max. “You hardly know her-”

“ _ Steve _ ,” Robin said more firmly, and based on the silence, Max wouldn’t be surprised if they were sharing some telepathic conversation right now. Slowly, he nodded. 

Max didn’t complain, or react much at all, when Steve gently untangled himself from her, bringing her to stand where she began to wobble unsteadily, sniffling. Robin grabbed her hand, squeezing it a little as she led her behind the counter and out of ear-shot.

Boxes were stacked near the walls and made for a quaint seating arrangement- and, evident by Robin’s nap from earlier, a great bed. 

Robin sat across from her, not trying to grab Max’s gaze, but rather waiting for Max to do it all on her own. She was aware that the Blockbuster closing time was nearing, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. 

When their eyes finally did meet, Max got that same feeling from earlier, like Robin already  _ knew  _ all her secrets. But this time it was comforting, not unnerving.

“Do you like Eleven?” 

The question was so blunt that at first Max lost her breath, her head spinning. If it had been anyone else she would have booked it home as fast as possible, but that look, filled with so much empathy and understanding, tethered her firmly. 

“I.. I don’t know.”

Robin nodded seriously. “It’s a feeling in your chest right? Like butterflies and all that. Like the worst rollercoaster ever. And you feel drunk and,” she shook her head, curling her lip. “And it eats away at you until you’re nothing but bones.”

Max stared at her for a long moment, eyes wide. “How do you..?”

Robin smiled wistfully. “Takes one to know one. Why else do you think I haven't started swapping spit with Steve?”

Oh.  _ Oh.  _ Max felt like she was falling, but not hard. More gliding, but she dreaded reaching the bottom. The problem. “That’s exactly what it is,” she said honestly. “But that doesn’t mean I like her like..  _ That! _ It’s not normal!”

Max clenched her fists, more anger spurting through her lips. Robin seemed unfazed. “You’re not normal. Just saying.”

“But I don’t understand,” Max whispered. “I liked Lucas, well, as much as Lucas  _ can  _ be liked. But then.. Everything changed..” she groaned, stuffing her head in her hands. 

“That’s how it always starts,” the older girl says, and despite having worn the most dorky costume for a dopey ice cream place a few weeks ago, her words were beyond wise to Max.  _ She  _ was beyond wise. “It sucks like there's no tomorrow, but in the end, it’s worth it.”

“But I’m not.. I mean I can’t.. I can’t be..” Max’s voice dropped. “..Gay?”

Robin smiled sadly. “Maybe you are, maybe you aren’t. But you like Eleven, don’t you? That makes you at least bisexual.”

“Bisexual?” Max echoed.

“Ugg, what have your teachers been teaching you these days?” Robin grumbled. “Actually nevermind. I don’t want to hear about your ‘physics’ crap. I get enough of that from Nancy,” she grinned. “But bisexual. Yes. You like both genders. You could have liked Lucas, as much as he could be liked, but you also like Eleven. See? Simple.”

“Simple,” Max repeated, her head spinning. She felt sick. 

“Hey,” Robin reached out a hand, rubbing Max’s shoulder affectionately. “It’s not the end of the world. You have a reference point for that at least. Why not just tell her?

“Because she’s dating Mike!” Max spat. “And she’s never had a thought that doesn’t revolve around.. Whatever Mike happens to be doing! It's always Mike this Mike that- UGH!”

“Then she might really be a lost cause,” Robin mused, mostly to herself. When Max glared she held up her hands defensively. “Kidding. She doesn’t strike me as the forward type, so you have to make the first move.”

“But how? Cerebro blew down in the storm remember?” Max said, trying to press onward even though she had  _ so  _ many questions it was hard to think straight.  _ Talk now, suffer later.  _

“Then maybe you’ll have to tell her the old fashioned way,” Robin cracked her knuckles. “Face to face.”   
Max’s cheeks flushed cherry-red. “What? No. I am NOT doing that.”

“Oh, you so are doing that,” Robin persisted. “I will drag you to her if I have to. But you  _ are  _ going to talk to her and you  _ are  _ going to fix this.”

“But what if she-”

“That’s not going to change anytime soon,” Robin replied earnestly. “If she doesn’t like you, she doesn’t. And if she does like you, and you  _ don’t  _ tell her, then you’ll both be miserable. There are only so many therapists, Max. Help a girl out.”

  
  


***

Max went home that night with a sinking feeling deep in her gut, and she had the distinct notion that she wouldn’t catch a wink of sleep. So instead she cracked out a few more movies Robin had recommended, to soothe her nerves, free of charge.

As Max entered the house, however, she smelled something sour, familiar in a way that made her throat burn and her nose sting. Even in liquor shops, corks and caps prevented any fumes from escaping, but this smelled like a full on swamp of the stuff. 

Cans of beer littered the table-top, small drops of amber liquid dotting the surface like blotchy stars. Neil was snoring on the couch, but when she opened the door, and the strand of bells that served as a doorbell jingled sharply, he looked from her to the TV, which was blaring some old Western Max didn’t know the name of. He glared. “Where have you been?”

“With my friends,” Max said, hanging her head and making her way upstairs. She was stopped by a hiss.

“Don’t you dare go up there,” he warned.

“I’m not in the mood right now Neil,” she barked, turning away from him. She knew he despised being called his name instead of ‘dad’ or whatever inane thing that was in with him nowadays. She didn’t aim to please him, however. She had her own shit to worry about. 

As she shut her door, she heard thick, heavy footsteps pounding up the stairs. She held her breath, opening the door to see a red-faced Neil Hargrove. His hair was slick with sweat and his cheeks were far too rosey for him to be anywhere near sober.

Hopper had taught her a word for this: angry drunk. The worst kind of drunk. Figures. 

“What do you want?” She stamped her foot.

He glared, eyes narrowing. “I told you not to go out past dark.”

“I’m old enough to know not to take candy from strangers,” she retorted wittily. “Stop trying to micromanage every little thing I do.”

Neil ground his teeth, sounding like wood against sandpaper. She shivered and hoped to God that it had been long ago enough that he couldn’t tell that she had been crying. What a can of worms that would open.

“If I had,” he whispered, leaning closer, his breath heady and spiced, “then Billy wouldn’t be rotting in a grave right now.”   
She pushed him away and he stumbled, knocking off a picture-frame from the wall. “You weren’t around! You abandoned him! You  _ abused  _ him like the cruel, twisted jackass you are.”   
He bared his teeth, his knuckles turning white. “Say that again, Max. See what happens.”   
“You. Are. A. Jackass,” she hissed. Maybe it was the high feeling she had from finally speaking her mind, from alleviating a growing weight from her shoulders. Maybe it was because Billy  _ was  _ dead, and everyone thought he and a number of other people were murdered and Max didn’t know how to handle it. Or maybe she was acting just as drunk as he was. 

His hand sprung out and he fisted a chuck of her hair, harshly tugging her to him. She yelped, crying out in pain as he twisted, bringing a fresh string of tears to her eyes. With his face inches from hers, his voice deep and ragged, he said “I hurt Billy because he’s a man. You know what I do to women?”

Max didn’t answer, focussing on staying on her tip-toes to put as little strain on her scalp as possible.  _ I know what you do to mom. _

“I make them pay for their mistakes,” he let her go and she stumbled, falling back against the doorframe. “If I catch you out after dark again, you’ll wish I hadn’t.”

With that he lumbered back down the stairs, his thin lips drawn in a grimace.

She stood, hands on her knees, shaking and breathing heavily. She didn’t cry this time, just dug her fingernails into her palms again, headless of the blood dripping from the small cuts.

No. She wouldn’t freak out this time. This time, she knew what she wanted- had to do.

***

Dustin had been working on fixing up Cerebro for the past weak, and, as she paid him a surprise visit the following day, she found that the mixed jumble of wires and tangles of metal rods was ready for action.

Without a second thought she helped him lug every bit and part up the hill overlooking Hawkins. Her arms burned and her skin felt raw, not to mention the searing heat that wore away at her composure; but she refused to wear anything but long sleeves, as a rule.

Dustin spent the entire day gushing to Suzie, plastering a not so savory frown onto Max’s face. They finally said their sappy, goopy goodbyes that stank of premature limerence, before he handed the Walkie-Talkie to her.

“Oh shoot!” Dustin cursed. “I gotta go! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

“Like what? Not getting captured by Russion spies?”

“Don’t joke about it Max! They could be listening right now!” He hushed her with a finger to his lips before jogging down the hill to his bike.

She waited a few minutes until he was out of sight before calming herself with a breath. She flicked a few channels, fiddled with the Walkie-Talkie, then spoke. “El? It’s me, Max. Are you there?”

No response.

The sky had purpled considerably, the sun dipping below the horizon. A few, sparse clouds littered the sky like wisps of spring cotton, and Max found herself lost in memories of California, where the smell and taste of cotton was so thick you could gag on it.

“El?” Max repeated, her voice breaking. She rubbed her temples. She  _ had  _ to answer.

Panic bubbled in her chest as she repeated her message a few times. It was full on pitch black by the time that any static was returned, and Max nearly cried out in relief.

“El? Are you there?”

“Yeah,” El said, yawning. “What’s up?”

Max’s mouth went dry. She knew that she had to talk to El, but she was at a loss for what to  _ say.  _ ‘I miss you?’ ‘I’m in love with you?’ ‘I wished you could move back to Hawkins?’

No. None of that would be a good idea. So instead she went with “Do you like New York?” 

El paused, and Max could practically see the gears working behind El’s eyes. “I think so,” she answered slowly.

“It it pretty? Billy always said it was the  _ best.  _ Like a sea of Christmas lights or something.”

“There are a bunch of lights,” El replied. “But I don't like them. There are people everywhere, it’s too crowded. I want to come home.”

_ Home.  _ Max looked down at her thighs, covered in a few strands of dead grass.  _ She still thinks Hawkins is her home. _

“I want you here too,” Max murmured. “Maybe you could come and visit?”

“Can’t,” El said sadly, yawning again. “Mo- Joyce just got a job. She’s working all the time. I’m sorry.”

“Oh,” Max tried not to let her disappointment show. “That’s ok.” She paused for a moment, something reckless spewing past her lips. “What if one of us came and picked you up? Like Steve or-”

“I can’t,” El said firmly. “I’m sorry.”

Max rested her head against the bottom pole of Cerebro, smelling rust and iron. Like blood. 

“Is Mike with you?” El asked, a tinge of excitement lacing her voice.

Max’s heart sank like a stone to her stomach, and she bit her lip so hard she nearly drew blood. “No, he’s not. Sorry.” The words came out more harsh than she intended them, and she heard a muffled intake of breath across the line.

“Oh,” now it was El’s turn to be dissapointed. “But you’re here! I miss you all so much.”

Max felt a sob escape her lips. “When can you visit?”

“Maybe in a few months? For Christmas?” El said hopefully. “Joyce said that we might be able to, but she also said that we should spend the holiday in New York, just to get acquainted with.. The neighbors,” she heard El stick out her tongue.

Max didn’t know what she would do if she couldn’t see El for another  _ year.  _ At the moment she was seriously considering taking Robin up on her offer. “Am I going to have to come over there and drag you back here myself?” She was only half kidding.

El giggled. “I would like that.”

“And you can have eggos every morning, and we can go hiking in the forest and help Will rebuild Castle Byers- and help the boys play D&D,” Max was rambling now, but God be damned if it didn’t feel  _ good.  _

“And we could read yours comics and go to the mall,” El finished. Max was surprised El would even consider stepping foot in the now desecrated Starcourt, which, by the town’s own admission, could take years to rebuild and rally support for. 

“Yeah, and we could do that.”

Before Max could speak again El practically squeaked “I cut my hair again!”

“Oh please tell me it’s not a bowl cut,” Max said, smiling widely. “You’ll look like the Juggernaut!” 

“The what?” 

“Ok when you come back, we are going to sit down and binge all of my comics,” Max laughed. “Seriously. What the hell Mike?” There was sweet chuckling from the across the line that made Max blush. “Are you making friends in New York?”

El was silent for a long moment. “I already have friends. You guys! Why would I need more?”

“Well, to go to school with? To take you to the mall or gossip with. You know- like teenage things?” 

“I only want to gossip with you though,” El replied, seeming aghast. Max let out a shaky, confused laugh. 

“But I’m not in New York, and there are plenty of-”

“No,” El said firmly. “I don’t want anymore friends. Neither does Will. He thinks that if we refuse to fit in- or.. Um.. conform, then we could come back!”

Max knew how foolish that was, but bit her tongue. “You shouldn’t worry about that. New York is your home now.”   
“Weren’t you just saying how  _ you  _ wanted me to come back  _ home _ ?” El asked, and it was possibly the best thing in the world to hear her laughter which reminded Max of the bubbles in champaign. “I think I better listen to the professional here. How are the guys?”

“Not the same. They miss you both. Seriously, come back. I’m sick of dealing with a depressed Lucas. I mean, have you  _ heard  _ him whining before?”

El giggled. “No. But I want to. Wait, sorry. I have to go. Bedtime. When can I talk to you again?”

Max felt her composure slipping away through her fingers like putty. “Tomorrow? Whenever you-”

The line when dead. She hit her fist on the ground, wincing as the bruising from earlier proved just how bad a habit that was. A small, niggling part of her mind whispered  _ well if you break a few fingers, maybe they’ll dope you up for a while.  _

She sat back on her heels, staring blankly at the tufts of black, hissing leaves. The stars were swollen and the moon was bright, but that didn’t mean she was comfortable riding her bike down the hill in the dark.

Clutching the black, plastic Walkie-Talkie that was probably from a dollar store, she curled into herself, feeling numb, and not just the cold.  _ Why is it that when are lives are finally turned right side up, everything goes upside down? _

  
  


***

Max awoke with more kinks in her back than there were blades of grass on the hillside. She felt like some leper without his meds. Her hair was a tangle of twigs and an assortment of leaves (only God knew how that managed to happen when the hill was void of trees), and her skin with clammy from the dew that dampened the grass all around her.

The sun had just begun to rise, turning the sky a pale purple, probably the color of Neil’s face just about now. 

Setting off down the road proved a tiresome task- it was Saturday and everyone who was anyone was buzzing around like Hawkins was a bee’s hive. So she had to be slow around corners, and never let her eyes wander, even when drivers gave her queer ‘I should probably call the cops’ looks. 

For a few blissful moments, she remembered El’s arms strung around her shoulders as they rode in the pouring rain to the Holloway house. Before everything went to shit. Before El lost her powers to some cosmic tapeworm and Billy died. 

When she finally made it back to the ever so glorious civilization, Max didn’t bother to go come. She knew she was only aggravating her punishment, but at the moment she didn’t have the brawn, nor the composure to handle it. So she took Dustin up on yesterday’s offer and hightailed it to Mike’s house. 

The house always smelled so fresh- only punctured by the faint taste that settled in the back of your throat of  _ child,  _ Holly. But the freshness was probably since Mrs. Wheeler had to keep her hands busy, and when she wasn’t tending to that garish mask of make-up, she was cooking.

Lucas greeted her at the door, and she was more than giddy to know that there were no hard feelings over their breakup just a week prior.  _ It was never going to work out anyway,  _ she mused as he led her down the stairs.  _ And he’s hardly my Montegue. _

Mike and Dustin were rolling a couple of dice, but their movements were choppy, stagnant, as if stale. Max couldn’t blame them. It wasn’t the same without Will the Wise and his energy. 

“There you are!” Dustin grinned, and Max couldn’t help but smile. Dustin’s grin was quite possibly a close second to the most adorable thing in the world. 

“Took you long enough,” Mike grumbled. “Hey is that a stick in your hair?”

Max grunted, pulling a long, sharp twig out from beneath her crimson curls. “Sorry little buddy, hit the road,” she tossed it to the side where it rolled up against the wall. Mike yelled in annoyance before she shrugged, sitting down between Lucas and Dustin.

She wasn’t well versed in D&D, but watching them play was hypnotic, it drew her in like a leach and held her there. But it was a comfortable spekk, like wading into an icy swimming pool during a hot Indiana summer. 

Suddenly Mike sat back, his head uptured. “I miss El.”   
“Don’t we all?” Dustin asked. 

“Yeah I know but like, I  _ really  _ miss her. And Will.”

“Well have you tried talking to them?” Lucas asked.

“Cerebro is down,” he said, shooting Dustin a dirty look, as if the boy were some storm god from their game hailed down for the soul purpose of vexing him. 

“It’s fixed you know,” Dustin said, crossing his arms.

“Wait really?” Mike shot to his feet, his smile as wide as a comet’s tail. “When did that happen?”

“Yesterday,” Dustin shrugged. “Right Max?”

“Yeah,” she muttered under her breath. It was then that Dustin noticed the state she was in; dirty and spattered with an odd panoply of twings like and brambles and she was sure she must have looked like a mountain-man or at least some off-the-grid physco.

The walls started to lean in again, leering at her with popcorn pocks in the dark paint. The rake and shovel protruded like arms, and the stacks of boxes and blankets looked like plush tentacles reaching out for her. 

She stood up, kicking her chair out. “I’ll be right back.”

“Are you ok?” Lucas’s voice called after her, but she was already up the stairs. Her head was spinning and she knew she was not only behydrated by delerious from lack of sleep and worry and concern and all those dumb things teachers always warned students  _ against  _ making a habit of. 

She made her way to the second-floor bathroom, trying to distance herself as much as possible from her gaggle of friends.

Staring in the mirror proved a very bad decision, for the girl who was looking back at her was not Maxine Mayfield but rather a husk of a child. There was no energy in her, just bone-pale cheeks and vacant us, as if her soul had been hacked up along with her tears.

The water from the sink was cold and stung like ice, and she grimaced, trying to rub the dirt away. She was making a mess, but saw that as a secondary issue to the perplexing one at hand. She could practically still feel Neil’s phantom fingers digging into her hair and pulling.

“Max?”

Max shut the water off immediately, realizing she had left the door open a crack. A ribbon of light filtered in, and sighed when she saw a face that she didn’t fear- or even recognize all that quickly. It took her a couple of lame seconds to connect the dots. Nancy. 

“What do you want?” Max asked sharply, contemplating slamming the door shut.

“Are you ok?” Nancy asked, cracking the door open a little more to peek inside. “Oh-”

“Are you mad about the mess?” Max asked, not bothering to hide her annoyance. “I was going to clean it-”

“I don’t care about the mess,” Nancy replied earnestly. “I do, however, care about the girl crying in my bathroom instead of goofing around with my brother.” Was she crying? Max felt her cheeks, not quite knowing whether it was water from the faucet or tears. 

“Well the girl not goofing around with your brother would like to be left alone,” she retorted, gripping the edge of the countertop and biting her lip.

Nancy blinked a couple times before stepping inside the cramped room and shutting the door, leaning against it as if treading in shark infested waters. Everyone treated Max like she was some sort of demogorgon, ready to eat them at a moment’s notice.

_ I’m not. I’m just angry. Really, really angry.  _

“Did Mike do something?” Nancy asked. Max gauged the woman for a second, weeding out any sense of factition and coming up dry.

“No.”

“Was it one of the other boys?”

She shook her head. 

Nancy paused, chewing her words as she ran her fingers through a stray lock of sable hair. “Robin told me what happened a couple nights ago.”

Max’s spine went rigid as an icicle, (and just as cold), and she balked, going paler than she already was. “She.. what?”   
“Don’t be angry,” Nancy continued quickly. “She- and I just want to help you. I don’t have a problem with you being gay, or bi, or whatever you think you are. And neither will the guys.”

“Did she tell you everything?” Max demanded.

Nancy shook her head. “She told me you liked someone? Someone you felt like you couldn’t be with?”

Max got that nervous feeling when you get gooseflesh and your breathing becomes hitched every now and then, like when your parents find out a secret of yours and loosen their lips at the dinner table. 

“So what if I do? What part of ‘can’t be with’ is so hard to understand?”

Nancy wrinkled her nose. “Because something tells me you haven’t tried you. You can’t give up until you at least-”

“I at least what?” Max whirled on her, baring her teeth. “At least until I confess my love, grovelling at her feet? How about I announce it to the whole town? Will that be enough? At least then people will be willing to call me a dyke to my face instead of behind my back!”

Nancy’s eyes widened before softening into an emotion Max couldn’t pinpoint. She didn’t bother to pull away when Mike’s sister stepped closer, mainly because there was nowhere  _ to  _ back up to, unless she wanted to fall ass first into the bathtub, and partly because she didn’t feel like she needed to. 

She recognized hostility, and this wasn’t it.

Nancy slowly pulled Max into her arms, cradling the girl’s head against her chest and soothing her gently. Max didn’t so much cry as she clung, wave after wave of emotion nailing her further and further into some darkness that was probably dangerous but she didn’t want to believe was dangerous because it felt so  _ good.  _

“You don’t have to tell anyone,” Nancy whispered into Max’s hair, holding her tight. “You don’t have to grovel at her feet or belittle yourself. You just have to tell her, in whatever way you want.”

“But I can’t,” Max whined weakly. “She only wanted Mike. She doesn’t want me. She wants to talk to  _ him.  _ I can’t go to her- I can’t even tell her in person.”

Nancy cocked her head to the side, pulling back in a similar manner to how a dog might inspect it’s bone. But as realization dawned she gasped but didn’t let go, which Max took as a signal to hug her back, relishing in the  _ connection.  _

“Its.. Eleven?”

Max nodded.

“You have a crush on Eleven?” Nancy repeated, biting her lip. When Max nodded again, she sucked in a breath. “I- We’ll figure this out ok? Don’t stress.”

“How can I not stress?” Max asked with a strained chortle. “Stress is my middle name, right next to stupid and ambitious.”

“You’re not stupid,” Nancy said firmly, imploring her to look up. “And we’re all a little ambitious. At least you know what you want, and what you have to do to get it. That’s a start, something a lot of people find themselves without.”

“How would you know?”

“Because I was in a similar position- of not knowing. I thought I loved Steve but I didn’t. Simple as that. I loved Jonathan, and I still do. We can’t control who we love, we can only decide how we go about dealing with what we’re dealt.”

“I think God dealt me a hand worthy of an imbecile,” Max snorted.

“If you say one more pessimistic thing I swear-” Nancy’s eyes glittered. Before she could finish, however, Mike hollared from the first floor. “We’re going up to Cerebro! Come on Max!”

“Do you want to go?” Nancy asked.

Max shook her head silently. 

“She’s not going!” Nancy called back, patiently tapping her foot.

Mike’s steps were pounding on the stairs so loudly they might as well have been thunder. When he peeked into the bathroom, his cheeks flushed, his eyes darting around. Nancy gave him a warning look.

“Max, are you ok?”

“I’m fine,” Max replied loftily, a bite hidden in her tone. “Now go talk to your girlfriend or whatever.”

Mike wrinkled his lip. “Ok.. fine,” he glanced at his sister. “Make sure she doesn’t go in my room!”

With that he was gone, looking none to disheartened by the whole affair. When the door thudded shut Max burst out into laughter, hysteria getting the best, or rather, the worst of her.

Nancy just groaned, clearly out of her comfort zone. “My brother can be a prick sometimes,” she said slowly. 

“It’s not that,” Max breathed. “It’s El. I can hardly look at him without seeing some stupid happily ever after bullshit while I’m stuck as the ugly, whimpy sidekick who is good for nothing but making a punchline whenever he needs it!”

Nancy sighed. “Steve  _ really  _ needs to cut off your movie supply for a while.”

***

Max wasn’t quite sure what she was expecting when Nancy offered to cheer her up, but was ready for just about anything. She didn’t complain, and she didn’t really mind how confident Nancy was. It was kinda nice, having someone else take the wheel of her life for once. Literally. They were driving. 

“Where are we going?” Max asked as the car veered off onto a forked gravel road that was all but clogged with aspen boughs and nettles. 

Nancy smiled. “I can’t drive you to New York, but I have something else I think you should see.”

The car rattles like a snake’s tail and made some God awful noises, but Max didn’t mind. She liked it being loud; and she was used to it. Used to Neil’s snores and the TV which probably caused a billion dollars in upkeep, and how her mother was always humming some listless tune. 

Finally the car rolled to a stop and Max blinked, looking around.

She knew this place, quite well actually, and mentally slapped herself for not recognizing it sooner. Her heart jumped into her throat. It was Hopper’s cabin.

The shack had been left in shambles after the Mind Flayer’s game of reverse whack-a-mole, but the Byers had helped patch it up before they left. The roof was still in dire need of TLC and the windows had no glass. But it was nice, secluded and oddly cozy, considering all the things that had happened here. 

“Why are we here?” Max asked tentatively.

Nancy glanced at her before stepping out of the car silently. They entered the house without a word. It smelled of weathered wood and matts of rotten leaves, like the day after Halloween, minus all the scattered candy wrappers. 

She trailed Nancy like a dog towards a small room with a green door, the paint faded to a soft lime. El’s room. A blink and Max was sucked into a nostalgic whirl of emotions, and she all of a sudden felt like Hopper about to barge in on something she wasn’t supposed to see. 

The room was stripped bare of most commodities, leaving only a rusted metal bed frame, but nothing that screamed ‘danger’ like Max had been expecting.

Nancy reached under the frame for a minute, fishing for something until she brought it out. It was an old shoebox, the lid caved in much like the roof. 

“She accidentally left this here,” Nancy said, tossing the lid to the side.

Max crouched down, holding her breath.

Inside was miscellaneous stacks of new, glossy polaroids. Hopper had given El a camera for her fourteenth birthday, not so long ago. It felt like ages though, and it brought a warm smile to her lips.

El had been so happy, and she would take pictures nonstop for weeks. 

“It’s not much,” Nancy continued, “but I thought you might want to see them.”

She  _ did  _ want to see them, and damn it all if they didn’t bring tears to her eyes. Because as she stared at each and every picture, the smell of the cabin really got to her; it smelled like pancakes, and faintly of books and fainter still something sweet. 

Most of the pictures were of El or her friends, of Hopper and Joyce and the gang, even a couple of Steve and Nancy. But some of them were of El and Max, one of them being the strip they got from the photo booth the day they went to the mall. 

She stared, unblinking, until her eyes were likely to pop out of her school. “Thank you,” Max whispered. “God, I feel so stupid right now,” she laughed. “Crying over silly pictures.”

“They’re not silly,” Nancy said kindly. “They’re..  _ Real _ .”

“Yeah,” Max said, wiping her eyes. “They are.”

  
  


***

When she came home that night, her ankles scratched from scraggly weeds in the forest, it was one padded feet and without so much as a breath. 

Neil was passed out on the couch, his shirt pulled tight around his chest. Was it just her or did he look more bloated? Fat?

_ Maybe if I’m lucky he’ll explode like some gremlin that was fed after midnight. _

__ As she made her way to the stairs, she heard distant humming. Not so much curious as she was irked, she glanced around until she spotted her mom in the kitchen, singing softly some mornic song. 

Her hips swayed beyond a baby-blue apron, and her curls bounced laughably. She didn’t even turn around when Max approached, but a smile crested her features. “You stayed out last night,” her voice was uncomfortably calm. “Where were you?”

“I..” Max trailed off, narrowing her eyes. She realized she didn’t have much of an excuse. How could she explain her night out on the top of a hill, sleeping with a Walkie-Talkie like it was some teddy bear and having figured out she was probably bi- Simple answer: she couldn’t.

“It’s none of your damn business.”

Susan turned around sharply, wielding a wooden spoon as if it were a cudgel. “What did we talk about Max? No lying to us. No keeping secrets.”

“Like you do?” Max demanded, her voice rising an octave. “Don’t pretend like you’re quiet at night. Like I’m some deaf little infant! I know  _ exactly  _ what Neil does to you. What you let him do! You let him torture Billy and now you let him torture me!”

Susan’s eyes widened and her lips parted before lowering in a primitive scowl. “What he does is in his nature. He is my  _ husband.  _ As a wife it is my place to-”

“To be raped every night?” Max practically screamed. “To watch as he beats me or threatens me or makes me want to slit my wrists open?! Is that what being a mother is to you?!”

Susan opened and closed her mouth like a blubbering fish, and Max felt a little jab of satisfaction. It was cut short when she heard Neil suck in a breath that definitely wasn’t a snore, and definitely couldn’t mean anything good.

Without another word Max dashed out the back door, hopping the fence. Her feet pounded on the pavement, her board forgotten on her backpack.

For a few exhilarating moments she thought that Neil might be following her; but a quick glance back proved otherwise. Now knowing she had at least a head start, so slowed down, quickly making her way to Blockbuster.

The store was more busy today, with clusters of teenagers and poor, lonely saps crowding around the romance isle. She paid them no heed, weeding her way through the throes of people up to the counter.

Steve was in a heated argument with a man who had an entire stack of movies that he was undoubtedly trying to barter for. Robin on the other hand looked like her smiles could cool, and her ‘have a nice day’s were just as fierce.

She squeezed through to the front of the line, and before anyone could scream or shout at her, Robin caught her gaze and quickly ushered her to the back. Max felt something she hadn’t felt in a long time: confident. 

The boxes were still there, so she sat on them, curling up with her backpack as a pillow and trying to catch a couple winks of sleep before she was hurled back into reality. 

***

An hour or so later Steve barged in, rubbing his temples so hard that Max was sure he would leave dents. “Is everything alright?” He asked.

“Just peachy,” she yawned, stretching slightly.

Robin followed him in, her eyes tired and even more blue than usual. “Do you need something?”

“Besides an emancipation and a place to stay so I don’t have to live under a bridge? No.”

Steve’s eyes widened. “You need a.. What? Hold on. Back up. What happened?”

So she told them. Words left her lips like bile, but she managed to hold back on the torid details, and all the things that were too private to speak of; like why she always wore long sleeves now, even during the hottest days of summer. 

“Oh my god,” Robin hissed when she was finished. “Make My Day,” she muttered. 

“Um..” Steve trailed off. “Jesus Max. Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“Because no one needed to know,” Max replied, balling her fingers into fists. “You guys had enough to worry about, with monsters and aliens and shit.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Last I checked, those monsters and aliens and shit have been gone for four months.”

Robin punched his shoulder lightly before she sat down next to Max, biting her cheek. “If you need a place to stay, you could come stay with me. I mean, if you want to deal with a disaster lesbian for a few weeks.”

Steve’s eyes widened and he looked from Max to Robin, as if unsure of what he was hearing. “Yes I told her,” she said with a click of her tongue. “For obvious reasons.”

“Wait, you told Nancy  _ and  _ him about my.. Predicament?” Max asked wearily.

Robin shrugged. “Friends don’t lie. And he asked me why you were upset. How can you deny Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington?” She puffed her lip out and Max couldn’t help but laugh a little.

“Ok, Ok. But.. no one else? Got it?” 

“Fine,” Robin said. “Except for El.”

“No. I told you that’s not-”

“Yeah, you  _ told  _ me. Doesn’t mean I have to listen,” Robin smirked. “Now, how are we going to do this?”

***

The following day, Max awoke pleasantly with the smell of lilacs. Bushels of the stuff spilled out from Robin’s house like waterfalls, and it created quite a pleasant atmosphere. It was no mansion, and it wasn't a luxury, but it was a far cry from what she was used to. 

She left at dawn, setting out for Cerebro only to find that the boys had spent the night up there, looking like multicolored silk worms in their sleeping bag cocoons. She kicked Lucas in the side and he snorted, shooting upright.

“Jesus Max,” he whined, exasperated before falling back and rubbing his eyes. “Ever heard of a little lenity?”

“Don’t even know what that word means,” she walked past him, and to Cerebro, finding the Walkie-Talkie clutched painfully tight in Mike’s hands. She frowned. “What’s with him?”

Lucas fiddled with his fingers. “Well.. El broke up with him.”

“She- what?” Max asked, eyes going wide. Her heart nearly stopped and her blood ran cold. 

“She. Broke. Up. With. Him,” Lucas reiterated. “Do I have to spell it out?”

“Why?” Max asked, feeling light headed. 

“You know how you used her to spy on us once?” There was malice in his tone but she nodded anyway. “Yeah well she did that again, thanks a lot Max, and heard some things she wasn’t meant to hear.”

“Like what?” Max asked through her teeth.

“Like.. Well..” He trailed off, before seeing the look on her face and holding up his hands. “Ok sheesh. Mike was in a mood and got really angry and blamed her for it. When we talked to her, and I quote,” he held up his hands in little circles, “‘I dump yo ass again.’”

Max wanted to laugh, fighting a grin. No. She shouldn’t feel proud right now. What was fucking wrong with her? If Mike was suffering, then she should be there for him. She could contemplate her own life later. 

“Is he ok?” Max asked.

Lucas shrugged. “Is Mike ever ok?”

“Good point.”

“We have other news too,” Lucas continued, as if just remembering. “Joyce agreed that they could visit for El’s birthday!”

Max’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head. November 11th. That was a week away. She wanted to cry or shout or pump her fist but thought better of it all, instead choosing to smile and little. “That’s cool. How’s Mike gonna take that?”

Lucas shrugged. “As long as he doesn’t go Manic Mike.”

“Manic Mike?” Max echoed.

“Yeah you know. You’re Madmax, he’s Manic Mike, Dustin is.. Well.. Dustin and I’m Loser Lucas!”

She snorted and broke down into a fit of laughter. “You guys are a bunch of dolts.”   
“You’re favorite dolts?” He hedged.

“My  _ only  _ dolts.”

***

Max never really got excited. Sure she would smile a little too wide and her thoughts may drift to certain occasions when she was feeling down, but never in her entire life has she felt butterflies like  _ this. _

__ It was as if every second of every day had one bright spot, and that was El. Max was terrified that her trip would be cancelled, that Dustin would jog down from the hill with a frown that wouldn’t last more than a few minutes, and all this build up would go ‘poof’ out of existence. 

Mike was devastated, but this time he seemed to  _ know  _ what he did wrong. It was in the little ways he acted; how whenever an insult was ripe on his tongue he would swallow it or whenever El was mentioned he would change the subject quickly. 

She started eloping with the guys more, (though in reality she just felt too out of place free-loading off of a complete stranger), so tried to occupy herself with.. Other things. Like petty gossip and complaints about too much homework and not enough girls. It was good fun she supposed.

She also made a habit of talking to El, mainly because it gave her a high that nothing else could. It was unhealthy, and she was fearful to call it an obsession, so after a while she just stamped it down and practically gave herself whiplash trying to think about other things.

“Are you going to tell her?” Robin asked one day as she picked Max up from school, because of course Robin would have the liberty of a free bird and parents as carefree as those found in fantasy movies. 

“I think so,” Max said. It was easy to talk big, but the Max facing El was a different Max than the one alone at night contemplating what to do about her emotions. And god knew that  _ that  _ Max would do nothing but cause trouble. 

Robin nodded sympathetically.  _ Again with the telepathy?  _ “Well she broke up with Mike Meyes so..”

“She’s straight,” Max finished for her. “Annoyingly, infuriatingly straight.”

“You don’t know that for a fact,” Robin pointed out. “Hell, Steve thought  _ I  _ was straight. You never know.”

“Is Steve just your go-to whenever anyone brings up you being a lesbian?” Max quipped. 

Robin shrugged. “He’s a go-to for pretty much anything.”

Max sighed, fiddling with the strap of her backpack. “There’s never been a gay superhero,” she said as they hopped into the car. It smelled like lilacs without having one of those smell-me-and-choke air fresheners hanging from the mirror.

“I don’t have an encyclopedic knowledge of superheroes, but there’s always a first. El’s catchphrase could be.. ‘Bi-Bi-Baby,” Robin made a fake gun with her fingers, pretending to take aim and making a garishly inaccurate sound relating to a gunshot. 

Max laughed. God it felt good to laugh. 

***

Max nearly had a heart attack or cardiac arrest or some shit when Joyce’s van pulled up, with a dented hubcap and a sleek new coat of paint. It was oddly familiar, even with these alterations. Max would have hugged if, but she had better things to hug, like her best friend.

El stepped out of the car, beaming. Max nearly crashed into her, pulling her into a bone-crushing hug. “Hey Max,” El said, laughing and wrapping her arms around Max’s shoulders. “You’re crushing me.”

“Right sorry,” Max pulled away, praying that the blush on her cheeks was as noticeable as it felt. “You smell like city,” she wrinkled her nose playfully.

El frowned before grinning sheepishly. “I hope it’s good, because you’re stuck with me for a week.”

__ ***

Without many words being exchanged, the tension in the air was molded like clay. It put everyone in a perpetual state of unease, as if one word could shatter the entire foundation of this visit. 

Mike and El didn’t avoid each other, per se, but they didn’t actively seek each other out, and neither would be caught dead in the same room alone. It was similar to how the first ‘breakup week’ went between Max and Lucas, just slightly worse, considering how devoted to one another they had been- and could still be. 

Max noticed that Joyce, when she dropped everyone off at the Wheeler house, looked so estranged she might as well be a card-board cutout, but even then her smiles would look more genuine than they did now.  _ It’s karma. She took her children away from everyone they loved, just because  _ she  _ was in pain. _

__ Jonathan and Nancy didn’t seem all that connected either. There wasn’t anything even remotely lovey-dovey about them, not that that was their usual, but before Jonathan moved, they could be found cuddling quite regularly, (so much so that Max had walked in on them a couple times). Now.. a simple handshake seemed stiff as if Jonathan had Freddy Krueger hands.

Snow had begun to fall, or rather a wanna-be sleet that stuck to your skin like glue. It was overcast and hazy and there was hardly a minute that Dustin wasn’t whining about Cerebro and how it would be destroyed. Max just laughed, and couldn’t help but think about Suzie (with a Z because that was very important), and their dopey Neverending Story song.

_ The Neverending Mourning,  _ more like.

El sat next to Max on the couch as the boys circled around their designated D&D table, whatever qualms they previously had about the game all but gone. Max had never seen Will so excited before; he was smiling so much his jaw must hurt like the devil. But his attention was more focused on Mike than anyone else.  _ Strange damn town full of strange damn people.  _

__ “I missed this,” El murmured, resting her head on Max’s shoulder. She hadn’t been lying; she  _ had  _ cut her hair. But it wasn’t a bowl cut. It fell in messy curls around her ears, more boyish than Mike during the summer when he refused to cut his own hair. 

“Me too,” Max said. “Now you’re stuck here.”

El stuck out her tongue. “I was superpowers, I don’t think you  _ could  _ keep me here.”

Max’s lips parted in a grimace, not quite knowing what to say.

“Oh..” El said, remembering. “I guess I don’t anymore.”

“Hey! That’s fine!” Max interjected quickly. “You don’t need superpowers to be tough.”

“I don’t?”

“Nope! Batman doesn’t have superpowers, and he’s as famous as they get!”

“Who’s batman? Is he a D&D character?”

Max pressed the heel of her palm into her eye sockets, growling. “Ok. That’s it. I will tie you to a chair and force feed you comics if it kills both of us.”

El giggled. “Rude.”

***

Mike’s guest room was comically small, and Max cursed all those movies- the ones where the two leads would coincidentally be forced to sleep together in a conveniently sized bed for the benefit of the lusting audience.

Not that she hadn’t done this before. Her and El had slept in the same bed before, but Max found herself nervous. More nervous than someone should be around their best friend.

It was the kind of nerves that made your skin prickle whenever you got too close to something, or that kept you alert and made you prone to jumping at the slightest of sounds. 

They finally situated themselves on the bed, staring off at the wall for a moment before El spoke up. “Why don’t other girls like me?”

“What?” Max asked, turning to lay on her side, facing El.

“In New York. None of the girls like me. They say I’m different and strange.”

Max was about to punch a hole through the damn drywall but instead let out an exasperated sigh. “Most girls are lame. They’re pretty prisses. Don’t associate yourself with them, don’t talk to them, don’t tell them your name.”

“Why not?” El asked.

“Because they’re stupid!” Max flung her hands up as if holding some invisible weight bar. “Their lives revolve around dumb boys and makeup and shit. It’s so  _ boring.” _

__ “But aren’t girls supposed to be friends with other girls?” God was El’s voice always so innocent and naive?

“That’s the standard, not the rule. Be friends with whoever has more than five brain cells.  _ That’s  _ the rule. And while we’re at it, stay away from anyone who calls you ‘weird’, boy or girl. Doesn’t matter, because they’re wrong.”

“But I am weird,” El objected.

“It’s a good kind of weird,” Max smiled as she tucked a stray curl of El’s hair behind her ear. “Maybe you should just stick to guy friends.”

“Like boyfriends?” El asked, wrinkling her nose. “Like Mike?”

Max shook her head. “Not  _ boyfriends.  _ Friends that are boys. Like Dustin with literally everyone.”

“Huh,” she muttered, chewing on her cheek. “The guys don’t like me much either. But they don’t tell me that.”

“Then how do you know?”

“Because I.. spy on them,” El smiled a little nervously. “They’re not that nice. At all. They’re always trying to one up each other. It doesn’t look like any fun.”

“That, my friend, is toxic masculinity,” Max smirked. “They can be just as bad as those girls. Stay away from them too. Walk the wire in between- find your niche.”

“Not quite right side up, not quite upside down,” El said thoughtfully. “Makes sense.

“Um..” Max laughed. “If you say so.”

When the lights were turned off, Max assumed that everything would be fine- it always was in the movies. It would be awkward and they would always loathe to talk about it later, then confess their love in the end. 

It wasn’t. She was cold and hot all at the same time and couldn’t get comfortable with El so close to her. 

_ Why is it a formula if it’s the farthest thing from real life? _

__

***

El’s birthday would be in a couple days, and until then everyone seemed at a loss for what to do. It was the classic case of ‘new kid sundrom’; everyone thought that everyone else had garnered different tastes, when in reality they were just being stupid.  _ They’re still the same people, they just reek of New York.  _

__ “Come on guys,” Max muttered. “There has to be something we can do.”

“Like what, spin the bottle?” Lucas mocked before his cheeks began to burn. “Forget I said that.”

“Not likely,” Max retorted.

They finally decided to head up to the quarry. Max had never been there and quickly figured out why Billy was so opposed to taking her- it was a cliff. Not like the Grand Canyon from the pictures on Billy’s mirror, but rather a steep, choppy incline of rock. At the bottom was a lake the color of azure that looked like it was cut from a stained glass window. 

Lucas began to wade into the water and squealed.

“What did you think it was going to be?” Dustin asked, looking up at the sky. “Clouds equals cold.”

“Thanks for that,” Lucas muttered, shivering.

“Are we going in?” El asked, watching as Mike fell in face first. 

“If you want,” Max said, getting chills just watching Mike as he gasped for warm air. 

Will swam out the farthest, not looking at all bothered by the cold. Max bit her cheek as she watched him near the base of the cliff. Mike soon followed him, and only Lucas’s and Dustin’s argument could be heard- because of  _ course  _ they were arguing again.

El walked up to the shore, letting the water lap at her feet. “It’s nice.”

Max sighed.  _ The things I do for love. _

__ When she got in the water her head spun and she shivered, mouth dropping open. “This was a bad idea,” she grumbled. “This is why you never listen to Mike.”

El didn’t look so beleaguered. If anything she seemed fascinated by the water- how blue it was, how it slipped between her fingers. “The last time I was here I saved Mike from falling to his death.”

“Wait why would you do that?” Max asked, feigning bewilderment. At the look on El’s face she held up her hands. “I’m kidding. Without Mike I probably wouldn’t have met you.”

“And I treated you like garbage,” El winced. “I’m sorry about that.”

It dawned on Max that Eleven had never apologized for how she acted- and Max didn’t blame her. She had been a threat, maybe she still was, and she couldn’t fault El for acting on impulse. Hod knew how many times  _ she  _ had done that.

“Come on, it’s ok,” Max said encouragingly. “I needed a wake up call anyway.”

***

Max was well accustomed to cars popping up at a moment’s notice- most of the time to haul her and her friends somewhere else to fight or subdue something new that just couldn’t be left alone. But this was Hawkins, after all.

This time, however, it was  _ her  _ that couldn’t be left alone. 

Neil rolled up in his glossy car that reeked of ‘compensation’ with big wheels and a dash with a gargoyle hood ornament. It’s windows were rolled down, spewing some god awful Western rock.

She was out near Mike’s curb, deciding to practice on her board vs. helping set up for  _ another  _ D&D game. She was fiddling with the bearings and the trucks when Neil cleared his throat, causing her to jump.

He was puffing on a cigarette before he flicked a few ashes towards her feet. “Max,” he drawled. “I’m sick of this little game of hide and seek you’ve been playing.”

She didn’t answer, watching him with cat’s eyes. 

“I’ll tell you what you’re going to do,” he said, his voice deep and rough. “You’re going to say goodbye to your little gang of misfits, you’re going to hop inside, keep your mouth shut, and apologize for making your mother worry.”

“Fuck off,” she snarled. 

“Hey!” Neil roared. His eyes were bloodshot around the edges. She flinched. “Just because your brother went and kicked the can doesn’t mean you just get to waltz off scot free. You’re not off the hook, and you are going to come with me.. Back home.”

“That isn’t my home,” she shook her head. “Not with you there.”

“Max..” He warned. “Don’t test my patience.”

She gulped. “Leave me alone.”

“Or what?” Neil mocked. “Are you going to have your friend use her mind-magic to throw me off a cliff? Oh don’t be so stupid. Of course I know about that. You don’t think Billy kept his mouth shut during that time he was.. How did you put it?- corrupted, do you?”

Her heart sank and her eye twitched. “Leave. Me. Alone. Or I swear you will regret it.”

He laughed before tossing the cigarette at her feet. “Oh sweet Max,” his voice was deceptively sweet, like chewing on a sour candy before you got to the inside. “GET YOUR ASS IN HERE NOW!”

Just then the door clicked open. Max turned and saw Nancy with her arms crossed, a dark look on her face. She approached the car with her chin held high, confidence flowing off of her in waves. 

“Is there a problem?” She asked Neil.

“Does she look like your kid? Back off,” he snarled.

“Well she certainly isn’t yours, by the looks of it,” she fished around in her pocket for a moment, coming up with a small little badge. “Hawkins Post. You wouldn’t believe how easy it is to stretch the truth- say some shifty guy driving around to molest children? Might even made the headline.”

Neil clicked his tongue, running it over his yellowing teeth. “I don’t want trouble,” he said carefully. “But if you come home again, Max, I swear I will kill you.”

Max gaped at him but didn’t bother with some quirky response; she was all out of those. She watched the car zoom past, the music pumped up to full volume. She looked down at her shoes when Nancy turned to her. “Your dad is an asshole.”

“He’s not my dad,” Max sighed. “He just pretends he is so he can own me like cattle.”

Nancy’s worries put marks along her eyes that made her look ten years older. “I’m sorry. Do you.. Do you have a place to stay?”

Max thought for a moment, deigning to talk to Nancy later, preferably when she was in a better, saner state of mind. 

***

“Why did you break up with Mike?”

They were sitting in the guest room, fingers greasy from never-opened comics and smelling of polymer plastic. 

Mike had lent them the few comics he did have buried in the shelves of his basement, all of which were unopened and in prime condition. Though now they were opened and strewn across the floor. El was looking at them quizzically, trying to determine is she was going insane or if that guy really did have a bat face. 

When Max spoke, El looked up. “He was being a jerk.”

“Yeah, but like, how?” Max pressed, sitting down next to her.

El thought for a moment. “I spied on him. He was talking with Lucas, and he started saying things about Will.”

“Lucas told me they were bad things about you?” Max said, confused.

“They were, also,” El replied evenly. “I think he was mad at both of us. But mostly Will. He was being like.. A toxic masculinity.”

Max would have laughed if she was a) not constantly thinking about Neil and what scheme he could be concotting, and b) was not so mad at Mike she wanted to pop his head like a grape. How could anyone speak bad about Will?  _ Will _ of all people. “He doesn’t deserve you,” Max muttered.

El was silent for a long moment. “What happened earlier with that car?”

“Family shit,” Max said dismissively.

“You didn’t fight back when he started yelling.”

Max looked down at the backs of her hands, realizing El was right. Whenever Billy had tried to belittle her or touch her, she would push back. Not hard, but she would. Because it was all she  _ could  _ do. But it was Nancy fucking Wheeler and her dumb stolen badge that got her out of this mess. “Let’s not talk about it alright? Kills the mood.”

El didn’t look pleased with that but didn’t say anything else. If the tension was bad earlier, it was much, much worse now. She could hardly breath and her chest began to burn. She was being stupid, but she had just about used up all her ‘confidence pills’.

“I need some fresh air,” Max muttered, standing. El watched her go, chewing on her cheek.

The air was cold and Max could feel a small drizzle begin to soak her hair. It was a classic autumn day: wet, rainy and downright dreary. She went out on the back porch, swinging her legs from one of those old, thin-banded white chairs. 

“Max?” Lucas yawned.

She jumped when she heard his voice, and shot him a glare. “What are you doing here?”

“Not sleeping, same as you. What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Annoying me,” Max said. 

“Why aren’t you with El? You looked really excited when she got here. Or is she being all mopey because of the breakup?”

“Have you ever seen El mopey before?” Max asked. “I just needed some space.”

“That’s new,” he tsked. “I thought you were the one who got in everyone else’s space.”

She grit her teeth. “What did Mike say about Will? Before El broke up with him?”

“She told you about that..?” Lucas asked uneasily. He looked pale, well, she  _ thought  _ he looked pale, but it was hard to tell in the dark.  _ What kind of people don’t leave their damn porchlight on? _

__ “Yes. She told me. Now spill it. What did he say?”

Lucas groaned, rubbing his eyes. “I don’t know what got into him. It was like someone hit him in the head with a frying pan and he woke up a changed man. He was just angry, not anything, just really angry. You know what that’s like.”

She nodded. “But why Will?”

He shrugged. “No idea. It started to be about El, and a bunch of crap. But then he started talking about Will and wouldn’t stop. Will this, Will that. It was kinda creepy.”

“Creepy,” she echoed absently. “Damn it Frog-Face.”

“Hey now, it’s Manic Mike remember?”

“You still call me Madmax, which, if I recall, was an insult. And if you’re lucky and don’t question my nicknames for people, then I won’t take offense to it,” she snapped before standing.

“Hey Max?” Lucas asked as she began to walk towards the screen door. She froze. 

“What?”

He twiddled his thumbs. “Why did you break up with me? I mean for real this time? I’m not going to apologize, whatever it is. But I want to know.”

Her heart bounced into her throat and she stuttered. She thought about lying to him- how easy that would be- but she was sick and tired of hiding. She was sick of not knowing what people would think and she was sick of lying to her friends.

_ Nancy said they would be cool with it. _

__ “Because you’re not my type,” Max shrugged.

“So then what is your type? I think I check off most boxes for all the best types,” Lucas grinned. 

“Girls,” she whispered. Then she was falling, but gliding. She was getting closer to the ground, and had only stalled for a few days. But she wouldn’t crash and burn when she did land, unless she misjudged it, in which case..

“Wait- WHAT?!” Lucas exclaimed and she whipped around, slapping her palm over his mouth.

“Shut. Up!”

“Sorry sorry!” He waved his hands. “But seriously?  _ You  _ like girls? Maxine Mayfield likes girls? Do I have that right?”

“Yes,” she swallowed thickly. “You do.”

He was silent for a long moment. “I turned you gay,” he muttered, chuckling a little. “Who’s the lucky girl?”

Of all the things he could have said, never in a million years had Max expected  _ that.  _ For him to just be fine with it and move on without really pausing or laughing or  _ something.  _

The question caught her off guard as well, but she was already waist deep in her own fuck-ups so what was a few more inches?

“El.”

“WHAT?!” She nearly smacked him.

“That’s it,” Lucas jumped to his feet, beginning to pace. “This is a dream. A really wonky dream. What the hell did Mike put in that pizza?”

Max rolled her eyes, tapping her foot listlessly.

Lucas turned to her. “You’re serious?”

“Yes.”

“Like no doubt about it serious?”

“Yes..”

Lucas sucked in a breath. “HEY EVERY-”

She tackled him, wrapping her arms around his neck and practically slamming him to the concrete. He yelped as she landed on top of him, eyes wide. They stared at each other for a few seconds before he burst out laughing.

He tossed her off and nearly ended up choking on his own spit. His eyes were teary when he looked up. “You’re not kidding then.”

Max sighed, rolling on her back. “Dolt.”

“Dyke.”

She didn’t take offense to that, but laughed alongside him, a heavy weight lifted off her 

chest. She had done it! Nothing could drag her down- then there was Mr. Wheeler who yelled down at them to go to sleep or he would bring out the beating stick, whatever that was.   
  


***

El was already fast asleep when Max came back, and she felt a sickle of guilt. How long had it been?

She had stacked in the comics in neat piles on the dresser, and judging by the fact that they were organized down to the date and issue, Max suspected it had been longer than she thought.

As she stepped into the room, the lights still on, El stirred and stretched her arms, eyes blurry as they settled on Max. “I tried to wait up. You took too long.”

“I’m sorry,” Max said, shutting the door quietly.

El shook her head. “It’s fine.”

After turning the lights off and nearly stumbling onto the bed and on top of El, Max managed to weasel her way under the sheets, her heart pounding madder than a car’s engine. There was no way in Hell she would be able to sleep like  _ this. _

__ Hours could have passed as Max just lay there like a boneless, wooden doll, hardly breathing. “El?” She whispered, half hoping her friend was asleep and she could put her delusions aside till morning.

_ Is my luck seriously this bad? _

“Hm?” El asked, her eyes fluttered.

“H- Have you ever spied on me?”

Her eyes shot wide open and she gave Max the most confused, aghast look Max had ever seen. “No! Why would I do that?”

“You did it to Mike..”

El hung her head. “Because Mike’s Mike,” she shrugged a little, struggling for words. “And you’re you. There’s just a difference. I can’t explain it.”

Max’s breath hitched and she could hardly breathe. “How did Mike.. How did he confess to you?” Her question was specious; she knew El wouldn’t pick up on the undertones of why she was asked, and played off the girls innocence.  _ It’s wrong, but I can't help it. _

“He didn’t really,” El blushed a little. “He just.. Started talking, and talking and talking. And then, he kissed me.”

Max’s mouth went dry and she shut her eyes. She had built this up so much in her head- talked to so many people and cried over it so many times, but now she could hardly think of anything but what her hands were itching to do, what her  _ mouth  _ was itching to do.

“Can I try something?” Max asked, her thoughts churning a thousand miles an hour.

El cocked her head. “What?”

_ I shouldn’t do this. I’ll regret it. I need more time- _

__ Max found El’s hand and interlaced their fingers, feeling no reaction except curious eyes and a confused smile. She tried to compose her breathing into a music that at least resembled calm, but failed at even that. 

She reached up and slowly cupped El’s cheek. El leaned into it like a cat before pausing, clearly out of her comfort zone. “We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want,” Max said hurriedly, knowing her El tended to lock up her pain as if it was some buried treasure. 

El shook her head. “I- I want.”

Looking back, this was definitely rushed and quick and  _ stupid  _ but at the time Max felt ready, well, as ready as she could be in this situation. So she leaned in, searching El’s eyes for a painfully long moment as she ran her thumb over El’s cheek. 

Finally their lips met. Fireworks went off in her head and butterflies leapt up her throat, 

and now she really couldn’t breath, but suffocating felt so damn perfect. 

El was tentative and broke the kiss quickly, her cheeks flushed and her eyes wide. “I don’t.. I don’t understand. Do girls kiss girls like this?”

Max looked down at their clasped hands, squeezing gently. “Girls can kiss girls, boys can kiss boys, and they can kiss both. It feels stupidly complicated, but.. Was that ok?” The last part came out nearly as a plea. El was silent for a long, tense moment and Max began to panic.

“I think so,” she finally said with a small smile. “It was softer than Mike’s.”

“Am  _ I  _ softer than Mike?” Max challenged. They stared at each other before erupting into giggles. 

“Mhm,” she bit her lip.

“C- Can I kiss you again?” Max asked, silently cursing her sudden stutter.

El nodded.

Max leaned in again, giving El plenty of time to back away, and when she didn’t their lips met. This kiss wasn’t anything like the first- Max was having trouble stamping her emotions down- a dam built up in her head. But she wouldn’t pressure El into doing anything. 

Instead she channeled her raw anger, fear and anxiety into deepening the kiss, tracing her tongue along El’s lips. Her friend sucked in a breath and broke the kiss for a moment. Their eyes met and she relaxed again.

More confident, El’s fingers threaded into Max’s mane of red hair, clutching and fisting almost painfully. Max’s hands settled on the other girl’s hips, pulling her close as she leaned back against the hard, plaster wall. 

She ran her tongue across El’s lips again, and they parted slightly. This time Max couldn’t stop the spout of electricity that shot through her veins and plunged her tongue into El’s mouth.

This time El didn’t pull away, but shivered violently, pressing herself closer to Max. Impulse getting the better of her, Max grabbed El’s thighs and hoisted the girl into her lap where El’s legs rested on her hips.

El shook as her hands traveled down Max’s neck to her shoulders where she clung painfully tight, nails digging in. 

Max hissed and sucked El’s bottom lip into her mouth, earning a sharp whine. El pulled away, panting. “Is this what girls do?”

“This is what  _ this  _ girl does,” Max murmured, nuzzling El’s neck, causing her to laugh. She gently kissed El’s jaw before moving down the column of her neck.

El’s head lolled to the side to give her more access, and she whimpered as Max’s lips traced patterns along her skin. Soon they became open mouthed and sloppy and El began to tremble, letting out little sighs. “F- Feels good,” she stuttered. 

Max hesitated for a second, her whole body pulsating with waves of heat, before lightly biting down, sucking the flesh into her mouth.

El whined again, gasping as her fingers dug harder into Max’s shoulders. Max smirked, not daring to stop, because she feared if she did, she would lose all sense of courage and run from the room, tail between her legs. She began to slide her hands along El’s back in a nearly primitive fashion.

Then El made a noise that sent blood to Max’s lower belly, one that caught her off guard and made her growl. It was like a whine, but really it was a moan, long and low. Max bit down harder in answer, and El moaned again, louder.

Her finger’s found Max’s hair again, sifting through each strand and tangling. It felt like heaven. 

Max brought her head up to meet El’s again, and she gently kissed her nose, then her cheeks, making El’s breath hitch almost uncomfortably tight. 

Lastly she kissed El’s lips, both of them smiling.

Eventually they stopped, catching their breaths and tossing the sheets off the bed with a great whoosh of air. The room was suffocating, like a giant oven cranked up as high as it would go. But it was a good kind of heat, like right after coming in from a frost-bitten winter’s day.

“Mike never did.. that ,” El said, trying to steady her errant breathing.

Max rested her head on her friend’s shoulder, lightly kissing her pulse point. Her heart could possibly be thrumming faster than her own. “Did you like  _ that?” _

__ “Mhm,” El murmured, one of her hands on Max’s neck, the other cradling her head. The moment felt so stollen it must have been a dream or some lucid drug-induced state. But whatever it was, Max never wanted to let go of it. She never wanted to let go of  _ El. _

__ “Can you do that again?” El asked after a minute. Her hushed voice made Max remember the boys curled up in the other room, and worry splintered through her. She hoped- no, begged that they were asleep.

Max nodded with a grin, cupping El’s face and leaning in. El met her lips first, to Max’s surprised, and pried them open as soon as they came in contact. Her hands began to wander down Max’s side, following paths never before traced. She then reached Max’s hands, grabbing them firmly. 

As she did, her grip wound up to Max’s wrists and she gasped, wincing and recoiling as if she had been burned. El sucked in a breath. “I’m sorry! Did I hurt you? What’s wrong?”

Max shook her head, hugging her arms to her chest. Her wrists stung and felt raw, like a bee sting right after penetration. She felt so raw, exposed and  _ dirty.  _ She was caught between laughing hysterically and collapsing, tears coming to her eyes as her emotions congealed in her head.

“What’s wrong?” El repeated, panic lacing her voice. She gently angled Max’s chin towards her and when their eyes met, Max couldn’t stop a few tears from escaping.

“Nothing,” Max muttered.

“Friends don’t lie,” El said seriously, her eyes like daggers.

Max doubted that they could be constituted as  _ friends  _ now, but she didn’t have the energy nor the courage to broach that subject at the moment. She looked down at her hands, El’s fingers threading through hers. 

El was ever so cautious, moving so slowly it nearly hurt just as much as her wrists. She began to roll up Max’s sleeve and Max couldn’t object, frozen in a palpable state of fear, her heart pounding to the point where it should burst. 

Her friend sucked in a breath as the marks became visible, like so many ribbons of pink. “Who did this?” El asked, lightly running her fingers along Max’s left wrist, not probing per se, but beyond worried. 

Max pursed her lips. “I did.”

El’s head shot up. “Why?”

“I just.. I can’t,” Max whimpered, pulling away from El before wrapping her arms around the smaller girl’s waist, holding tight. 

El was fast to react, her arms reaching up to cradle Max as if she were some child, but at the moment being just ‘some child’ felt better than being Max. It felt better than being a Mayfield or god forbid a Hargrove.

“Shhh,” El murmured, stroking her hair. “Breathe.”

“I-” Max’s voice broke.

“You don’t have to talk,” El said.

Max steadied herself, closing her eyes and letting her mind wander, putting up walls whenever she strayed too close to  _ those  _ memories. The ones that could only cling to her in nightmares before being shaken off come morning. They shouldn’t hurt her, not when she was with El, superpowers or not.

After what felt like minutes, or hours (there wasn’t even a clock, damn it Mike), the room went silent save for the quiet buzz of the heater in the room next door. Max felt stiff and didn’t want to move. Her throat hurt but not as much as it did a couple nights ago.  _ Am I fucking seriously acclimating myself to crying? _

__ “Here,” El said, situating herself so that they were laying down again. She brought the blanket and wrapped it around Max’s shoulders. She was a little cautious at first before pulling Max into a hug again, burying her head in Max’s hair where her breaths tickled her skin.

__ Max whimpered as her arms wound around El’s waist, scared to let go, because if she did, El might leave again.  _ Damn it.  _ Why couldn’t she be like one of those sappy love interests who always fell for the wimpy, but truly a hero, protagonist?

Why couldn’t she be normal?

__ \---

El woke with a sinking feeling in her gut, one that rivaled the ache she would get if she swallowed a rock. And she was  _ hot.  _ Like the days during summer when Hopper turned on the heater in the morning but was never there to turn it off in the afternoon.

She groaned, her skin lacquered with sweat, her eyes cloudy. The room was dark, almost impossibly so, before she saw the small slit of yellow light underneath the door. Beyond the thick piece of wood, she could hear voices, something about a ‘stolen sleeping bag.’

El would normally laugh and their petty shenanigans, but now she was feeling pure dread and panic. Like snippets from a fractured dream, the previous night came back to her in great, long strides that left her light headed.

“Max?” She called, turning around and finding the bed empty beside her, promoting her to consider that it might have been a dream. But the sheets were still warm. 

Her emotions didn’t make sense. She could hardly process what had happened, and what to do about it on top of that. Was Max ok? Obviously not. Why were those marks on her arms? Why had her step-dad yelled at her?  _ And why did I like what happened last night? _

__ It wasn’t that she found it disgusting, or revolting as all things might suggest, but rather, she felt odd. It was a warm bubbly feeling, maybe that was why she was dizzy. But mostly she felt confused.  _ Girls can kiss girls, boys can kiss boys, and they can kiss both. _

__ El tried to listen to what was happening beyond the door, but came up dry. So she silently made her way out into the basement which was a frenzy of missed alarm clocks and boys yelling.

Dustin nearly ran into her before apologizing in that stuttering way of hers. He dashed up the stairs like his life depended on it, forgetting that he was wearing only one shoe.

She spotted Mike across the room, stuffing an assortment of books and oddities into his backpack. “Mike!” She yelled, her voice strained. Why did it feel weird to use her mouth all the sudden?

He turned to her. “What?”

“Where’s Max?”

If ever there was a more apathetic look, El would be surprised. She crossed her arms, glaring at him until he sighed. “She’s upstairs I think. She might actually get to school on time today. Lucky her.”

As El made her way to the kitchen, she saw a bolt of shiny red hair, followed by a squeak from Dustin as Max pushed him out of the way. She was just heading to the front door when El stopped her, making her flinch.

“We can talk later,” Max said, glancing out the door as if the trees across the street were the most interesting things in the world.

“We need to talk now,” El pressed.

Max shook her head. “Sorry. I have to go to school,” El was about to object but was silenced by a look that could wilt flowers, and El finally knew what it was like to be one of the guys on one of Max’s bad days. 

She stood in the doorway, watching Max hop on her skateboard and start pushing off toward the school. If she didn’t know any better, she would say her heart was weeping.

“Move!” Mike shouted as he pushed past her. “Our exams are today!”

***

Joyce picked her up just shy of an hour later. Will had remained behind, but they had hardly spoken to one another. Something was definitely wrong, but like most things this morning, El didn’t have the faintest idea what.

They were on their way to Hopper’s grave. El felt a pang in her chest and tears well in her eyes like soft ropes. She was dreading this- she hated trudging through memories that hurt so bad. 

She couldn’t focus, even as Will tried to start some small talk and Joyce offered to buy them a late breakfast. Everything was warped and distorted, her emotions playing a game of tag inside her head. She was beyond confused. What was the word for it? Perplexed.

The grave was off in a little knoll near the road, a patch of flowers and small like tree seedlings sprouting up around it in a memorial. El thought it was terribly underwhelming, but knew it was as good as she was likely to get. 

She knelt next to the grave, completely careless as to the dirt now caking onto her knees or the brambles from weeds scratching her shins. All she cared about was the father she had lost, and the memories along with him.

On the way back, she had resolved herself to simply stare out the window, but as time progressed in a silence that made her think too much of inky walls of pitch darkness all around her, she couldn’t take it anymore. She had to say  _ something. _

__ “Why do people hurt themselves?” She asked suddenly.

Joyce sputtered, her hands clammy on the steering will. She glanced back at El, pursing her lips. She sighed, and El couldn’t help but notice how mother and son alike looked at her like she was some alien. 

“People.. Hurt themselves.. Because they are trying to cope. They feel like there is no other option, and they are beyond afraid. I’m not the best person to ask, really El. I’ve never felt that way before.”

El’s stomach dropped and she could feel her pulse in her feet, her skin going ice cold. More tears collected in her eyes, but she wasn’t sure if she truly had anymore  _ left  _ to cry. 

“El,” Joyce said slowly, pulling over the car into a little muddy inlet. “Are you thinking about hurting yourself?”

“No!” El retorted, but her breathing evidently suggested otherwise to Joyce because she swallowed thickly, muttering under her breath. 

“Then why ask?” Will prompted, but his voice was small, weak. 

El stared out the window, a hard lump accumulating in her throat. “It’s someone else. But I can’t.. I can’t say..”

“Eleven, if you think someone is hurting themselves, you have to tell an adult. It’s dangerous,” Joyce said sternly, but El couldn’t help but hear that similar belittling tone that Hopper would use whenever he was angry. “You can tell us.”

“But.. I could lose her friendship..” El panicked at the thought of that before her mind flashed back to this morning at the sheer, power in Max’s eyes. Maybe she already had. “I can’t do that. I  _ won’t.” _

__ Joyce shook her head, curls bouncing hypnotically. “If you don’t, she’ll only hurt herself more. After a while it becomes a habit, and then..”

“What does it matter?!” Anger bubbled up inside her, anger that made her want to shut another gate, or kill another demogorgon or  _ something  _ to alleviate the ache in her chest. “You can’t help her! I can’t help her! Not from New York! She’s not safe her, and what are we going to do? Abandon her?!”

Will reached out and gently rubbed her shoulder as she felt twin tears roll down her cheeks like crystal beads. She leaned into the touch, sniffling. “We need to move back.”

Joyce let out an exasperated sigh. “We’ve been over this..”

“What?” Will said, his voice having as much bite as he could muster. “You moved away because Hopper died. You’re in pain, and I’m sorry. But in Hawkins, we both have a Hopper of our own. One that’s not dead! One that we still have a chance to be happy with, to live our lives next to. And you pried us away from them!”

Joyce was taken aback, recoiling and looking stricken to her marrow. Will was seething, gripping El’s shoulder like a vice clamp. There was silence for a painfully long time, before Joyce regained her composure, or what little of it there was left.

“In New York we can start again. There are other Hoppers out there, ones who won’t bring back memories of.. The bad things that happened here.”

“So now you want to pretend it didn’t happen?” Will balked. “Well it did. We all have dreams about it, we’re all afraid of the dark. That’s not going to go away because we’re out of town! Now we’re just alone, miles away from the only friends and family we ever knew!”

“We moved, Will. Case closed. There’s nothing I can do.”

Will began to cry, angry, vile tears that must have felt like acid based on the way his face contorted in pain. “You know, whenever we ask for a present, for our birthdays or for Christmas or whatever, we’ll ask to come  _ home.  _ No more holidays, no more parties.”

“I’m sorry,” Joyce whispered, jamming the ignition. Tears weren’t falling down her cheeks, but her eyes were red blood. No one spoke the whole ride back to the Wheeler’s house.

***

“Hey Will!” El called, feeling more like a mother than a sister. They were pulling into the driveway, and Will had practically flown out the door, his feet pounding on the concrete like that one silver haired wonder Max had shown her in an Xmen comic.

He turned when he saw her, his eyes downcast. “Hm?”   
“What did you mean,” she asked. “When you said we all have a Hopper? Who’s yours?”

Will’s eyes went wide. “I- I um..”

El thought for a moment, and her thoughts wandered back to what Max had said last night.  _ Girls can kiss girls, boys can kiss boys, and they can kiss both.  _ “Are you a Both?”

“A what?”

“A both,” she repeated. “Do you like girls  _ and  _ boys.”

Will looked around frantically, his eyes about to bug out of his head. He stared for a few long moments than ran sluggishly by, and El was aware that Joyce was giving them space, staring blankly at the dash. She felt trapped between the two, her nerves coiling around one another.

“I.. I don’t think so.”

El cocked her head as he continued.

“I think I’m just.. Gay..” he trailed off, sucking in a shaky breath. El held her tongue, sensing that he wasn’t finished. Will was never finished; that’s what she loved about him, he always had more to say. “I’ve never felt anything towards girls. But.. I don’t know. I don’t know what I am. I’m.. broken.”

“You’re not broken,” El said, reaching out and grabbing his shoulders gently. “You’re perfect.”

He sniffed. “What makes you say that?”   
“Because you’re nice, you’re funny, and smart and you put up with Jonathan,” she smiled warmly and Will wiped his eyes.

“I think  _ he  _ puts up with  _ me.” _

She frowned before she realized he was kidding and she laughed, wrapping her arms around his dainty shoulders. “Can you tell me about some monsters?” If there was one thing that always cheered Will up, it was D&D, like a hygge for him. A comfort. 

If he had been a dog his ears would have perked up to the height of trees. “Of course!”

***

After sifting through a second deck of cards, Will yawned and curled up like a puppy, wrapping a blanket around his shoulders. El watched him for a few minutes, making sure he didn’t have another one of his nightmarish fits- for the first couple weeks he had awoken screaming and covered in sweat, tears in his eyes. She or Jonathan or Joyce would always pull up a chair near his bed, keeping him company should he wake up.

_ No one will ever touch him again. _

This gave El plenty of time to think, with much of it spent with her closing her eyes and letting her thoughts run rampant for a couple hours. It was nice, pleasant, with Will’s quiet breaths and her own to create a soft, methodical lullaby. 

But today was different. Today her thoughts were a jumbled mess like tangled kite strings. 

Finally, the door upstairs opened and El shot upright, her vision going dark as she adjusted. She crept up the steps and peered out, hoping it was Max because she didn’t have an excuse for her worried, incoherent biting of her lip that Mike would surely notice. 

Luck was on her side because it was Max who silently opened and closed the door, determined not to make a sound. El didn’t really know how she heard it in the first place- Will certainly didn’t, but the Wheeler’s door opening was like popcorn in a microwave. 

El waited a couple minutes before Max stuffed her hands in her pockets, continuously glancing around the house as if she was being watched. El didn’t bother to hide but rather surprised the girl on the steps, nearly causing her to drop all of her school books which looks just about as important as that sweatband around her wrist. 

“Not now El,” she muttered, trying to push past her. “I have homework.”

El gave her a hard look.

Max stared blankly. “You know? The torture teachers dish out to kill our brain cells? I have to get to that now?”

“No,” El said in the vacant voice that always gave Mike chills. “We need to talk.”

Max tried to ignore her but almost ended tripping down the stairs instead, bracing herself against the rail and glaring at El. “I said later.”

“And I said now.”

“ELEVEN!”

El tried to fight down the bout of shame that welled in her chest, but ended up flinching. Max’s eyes softened a fraction and her lips opened as if she wanted to say something before closing again.

She turned and made her way to the guest room without another word. El thought about just giving up, but her heart tugged her as if she were attached to Max by a shipping cable. So she found herself with her ear pressed to the door, unlocked. But the Wheelers didn’t have a ‘no locks’ rule.

_ Does she want me to come in? _

El took a breath, tasting stale air and playing cards from the old D&D sets. She pushed open the door, the creaking akin to birds dying. Max was curled in the corner of the bed, like some wretched crenelation monster. 

She didn’t look up as El sat down next to her, the bed dipping and springs squeaking. “It doesn’t look like you are doing homework.”

Max snorted, but there was no mirth behind it. 

“What’s wrong?” El asked, reaching out and gently laying a hand on her shoulder. Max shied away from it but El held her in place, reaching around to grab the girl’s hand. “Please tell me. Did I do something wrong?”

Max’s head shot up and her hair never looked more like fire then it did right then. It made her look frightening, manic, like the Phoenix. El wasn’t afraid though. She had seen  _ real  _ monsters, and Max was far from that. 

“No, El. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then what-”

“I’ve tried to ignore it, but nothing works. I can’t get over the feeling that I’m falling- that there’s no one to catch me. That when I hit the ground I’ll die. I try to stop it, I try to wake myself up but that never works either. It's a nightmare. And then I remember you’re gone- you were one of the first friends I ever had,” her hands were fisted into the blankets, her eyes watery. “One of my  _ only  _ friends. And then I had to kiss you because I was scared- I didn’t know what to do and I think I’m gay but I  _ can’t  _ be because.. It’s.. It's not ok. A- And I fell in love with you, and you got freaked out. I’m so sorry.”

El gaped at her, scrambling for words to make it better. To make the  _ pain  _ end. But there was no gate to close with Max, and there was nothing El could do but gently grab Max’s chin, looking at her with eyes she had learned from Hopper. “I think I understand.”

Max gazed at her without any expression to speak of, tears still glinting on her cheeks. “I liked it. I liked when you kissed me, and think I like you,” she paused, watching Max’s eyes widen. “But I don’t like these.”

She ran her thumb along Max’s cheek before leaning in to kiss the other one, tasting salt. Max’s breath hitched and El pulled her closer, peppering kisses along her skin, rubbing her back and absently running her fingers through her fiery hair. 

“El..” Max whispered, grabbing El’s wrists. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to-”

“But I  _ do  _ want to,” El said, tasting the words for the first time. She had  _ wanted  _ to with Mike, she had been willing to take that step. To date him, to make him smile and laugh. The feeling wasn’t exactly the same, but she didn’t want it to be, because if it was the same as with Mike, she would miss the feel of bubbles in her chest and roses in her cheeks. “I- I don’t know what I feel, but I know it’s  _ something.  _ Something good.”

Max’s lips parted and El got worried for a second, thinking Max might start crying again. But she smiled widely and let out a breath, reaching out to pull their lips together. Who was she kidding, Max wasn’t a crier.

El didn’t hesitate to kiss back, this time savoring each and every moment. She didn’t mind the soft scuffle upstairs and the fact that Lucas would probably barge in at any second- and she certainly didn’t mind when Max deepened the kiss.

She adored it, in fact. Max’s kisses were so full of emotion, (the bad ones would need some sitting down about later, but for now they just added to the whorl), so tender and loving and  _ praising  _ that El practically melted.

“What about New York?” Max murmured, breaking the kiss for a moment.

“What about it?” El wrinkled her nose. She toyed with a strand of Max’s hair before reaching down and clutching her hands, smiling. Max sighed when El kissed along her wrists, looking up at her with big, doe-eyes.

“I don’t want you to leave,” Max said, sighed at the feeling of something so soft against her scars, something so non-patronizing and frightening. 

“Then I won’t.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally going to be around 5000 words, but plans changed. Hope it was worth it! Feedback and comments are very much appreciated! :D 
> 
> There will most likely be two more follow-up fics detailing Ronance (Robin/Nancy) and Byler (Will/Mike), because Hawkins is gay and I stan.


End file.
